The grass was still, besides the small pieces that dared to move within everyone else. It reminded me of people nowadays. There was more still pieces of grass then moving, that represented the people that tried so hard to fit in, so wouldn't dare to ever do anything different from everyone else.
Then there was the swaying pieces of grass that moved by the light breeze, but it only got to them, not anyone else. They represented the outgoing people, that didn't care what everyone else thought, and did whatever they want even if they got judged.
Next there's the flowers the popular, they get admired by everyone that passes. They are usually the rich (the socs), and people like that. The still pieces of grass are the people that want to become like the flowers so much, that they would do anything, ANYTHING become like them.
Finally, last AND least the weeds, who stand for the low lives, the one that don't fit in, and won't ever fit in, even if they tried. They only have each other. But the thing is there is so many weeds, that they become their own group, their own family. They don't have anyone but each other, and if you grow up like that, you will learn pretty quickly to stick to your own groups.
I happen to be a weed. I have a family, which is the gang.
But what the gang don't know I used to have a real family, a blood family that cared about me. The gang know by the way I act now. But they don't know me, the way I was before.
They don't know what my life was like before, my true life….
Authors Note: This is just the summary the story starts next chapter.
